


More Than Human

by BerryCaluroso



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Deconstruction, Forced Bonding, Gender Issues, Hydra, M/M, Villain Protagonist, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerryCaluroso/pseuds/BerryCaluroso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the Avengerkink meme: "Every A/B/O universe fic I read usually focuses on the Avengers, and SHIELD, and their supporting characters. But I couldn't find one that showed what it was like from the Bad Guy's perspective." </p><p>Johann Schmidt goes into heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Human

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at [Avengerkink.](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/11065.html?thread=23909177)

He still remembers what it was like to be nobody. To be a penniless, orphaned thief living on the streets of Berlin and begging for work. To not care about having the world, to have his mind move like tar from one slow thought to the next, to be scrawny and underfed and always, always hungry. But the memories are distant and vague. They are unimportant to him, these memories of the old Johann Schmidt's. They are not his.

So there is no reason why it should make that old, irrational impotent hatred rise in him when he walks into a HYDRA barracks once and finds a lewd poster on their walls. It shows an Omega male posed attractively and submissively before the viewer. The art is crude, clearly drawn by the soldier whose bunk it's pinned above.

Schmidt beats the soldier to within an inch of her life, cuts off her right hand, and then gives her to Zola as a research subject. Let the other soldiers think what they will; Schmidt is not here to explain himself to them. 

It's a month after this incident that Steve Rogers breaks into Schmidt's facility. Schmidt confronts him, gloating. Rogers is his equal, the only one who could possibly threaten him, and soon Rogers too will be dead.

The so-called Captain America is a sight to see. Schmidt can see the effects of the serum on him, the chemicals making what must once have been weak arms ripple with muscles. The man is an Alpha among Alphas. 

Schmidt is observing his opposite number with a combination of fascination and arousal when he realizes what it is he's feeling. 

_Heat._

No. This can't be. He thought the serum had purged him of human weaknesses, had made him something other, something stronger. He cannot be in heat.

But nevertheless he can feel it rising in him.

To his horror, he sees Captain Rogers' eyes dilate with lust. The Captain leans forward, totally in control of his instinct, and Schmidt's lip curls in disgust. Part of him wants to go along with this. It would be so simple to take what the Captain is offering and to surrender to what both nature and nurture are promising him is only natural.

But Schmidt has had a lifetime's worth of experience dealing with unwanted heat. He is more than his instincts. 

He takes advantage of Rogers' distracting to punch the American's lights out, and then pushes the unconscious body off of him, spitting on Rogers for good measure. Schmidt will deal with him later. Right now he must deal with the betrayal of his own body.

He steps over Rogers and turns to Zola. The scientist, luckily, is an Omega to the bone, and he shows no response to Schmidt's pheromones. 

"Do you have something for this?" Schmidt grits out. He loathes the way his voice wants to slip into a submissive whine even when speaking to another Omega. This is ludicrous. He is the Red Skull. He is not some simpering Omega eager to be knotted. 

Zola's eyes are wide. "I - I didn't know you were - "

"Of course you didn't, you incompetent fool," Schmidt sneers. "Do you think I would be wearing this uniform if that fact was public knowledge? Do - you - have - anything - that can stop this?!"

Zola shakes his head, terrified. "No! I'm not a - I'm not a biologist - "

Schmidt growls in impotent fury. "Then GET ME AN ALPHA!" he shouts at Zola.

Zola cringes. "I can't - "

Schmidt shakes his head, cutting him off. This is useless. Zola is useless. He brushes past the scientist, back into the twisting hallways of the HYDRA facility. 

The first man he runs into is a HYDRA Sturmführer. Schmidt doesn't recognize him, but that doesn't matter. He doesn't need to know the man's qualifications. Everything he needs to know, the junior officer tells him in the widening of his eyes and the feral way he grins at Schmidt. The man is an Alpha.

Schmidt can see the desire in his eyes as he reacts to Schmidt's pheromones, and he hates that. He is the Red Skull. He is the man who will one day hold the world by the throat, who will crush it and remake it in his glorious image, who will hold the power of the gods in his hands. He is not an object of desire.

"You, an Omega?" the officer says, stepping forward. Everything about him indicates dominance. He speaks like he expects to be obeyed, and he walks towards Schmidt like he expects Schmidt to give way. Schmidt feels the dark, horrible need rise in him as the officer advances on him, and he takes a step back, his posture becoming weaker, a little bit more submissive. A little bit more like an Omega. 

The officer grins, grabs Schmidt by the shoulders, and leans in to take his mouth.

The next thing he knows, he's been slammed up against the opposite wall, his hands held in an iron grip and a furious Schmidt staring down at him.

 _"Did you forget who I am, Sturmführer?!"_ Schmidt hisses, slamming the HYDRA officer's head against the wall again. "Did you mistake me for some pathetic, submissive Omega who would beg you for your knot? For someone who was weak? For someone who was _like_ you?"

The officer whimpers. Schmidt can hear bones grinding in his wrists where Schmidt's leather gloves encircle them. "I - I - "

"I AM NOT!" Schmidt's right hand clenched, and there was a terrible, sickening _snap._ The officer screamed.

"Look at you," Schmidt sneered. "A slave to your body. You disgust me." He took his left hand off of the officer's broken right one, and uses it to peel off his mask and discard it. The heat is making him sweat, and the mask is disgustingly damp. Underneath it, his true face is revealed, and the officer's eyes widen further. Good. That isn't desire in his eyes now; it's fear. 

That is what he should feel, looking upon the face of the Red Skull. He should tremble before his superior, and not dream of domination.

That thought gives rise to a sudden rush of images, of this officer standing over Schmidt, pushing him against the wall, stripping him naked and breeding him, hard and ruthless, right in the middle of his own facility. Schmidt fights back a ridiculous, helpless whimper and slams the officer's head into the wall again.

He reaches down with his free hand, into the other man's pants, and wraps his fingers around his prick. He laughs. "Still as hard as a rock. How long would you stay hard if I tortured you? Would you go limp if I fucked you?"

The officer shudders and thrusts into Schmidt's gloved hand, his uninjured wrist fighting against Schmidt's grip. His instincts are telling him that he should be the one in control; but his instincts are wrong.

_Wouldn't it be easier just to give in? Let things take their natural course. Let him take you . . ._

Schmidt growled, and tightened his hand until the officer cried out. No.

He unbuckles the officer's trousers and pulls them down, revealing the man's large, painfully aroused cock, and then pulls at his own. They're wet in the back, and he shudders with distaste. But it will make the process easier, he knows. He does not intend to be the one in pain here.

He stands over the officer and hastily aligns their bodies. The desire is urging him along, telling him to give up this awkward business and let the other man take charge, but he manages to get into position before he pushes himself down on the man's cock.

This time he can't fight back the cry of pleasure which bursts out of him as he feels the long, hard prick slide up between his cheeks and into the slick hole within. There is a slight burn; he does this no more often than he needs to, and it has been awhile. The Alpha thrusts into him eagerly, and his injured hand raises up to rest on his shoulder, as if he imagines he can re-take control of the situation.

Schmidt, still gasping at the penetration, backhands him across the face. His hand is wet with his own fluids. "You will not move unless I order you to, Sturmführer." Schmidt grabs the officer's hips and holds them still with inhuman strength. He handles the thrusting, concentrating on holding his instincts back.

It takes a long time, longer than it ought to. The Alpha isn't used to doing it like this, and he's spending more time praying that he gets out of this alive than he is thinking about sex. But finally, after what seems like hours of awkward thrusting, Schmidt feels him swelling again.

"Finally," he sneers. "What kind of Alpha can't even get up a knot? You're _pathetic."_

Then he has to go silent because he's being stretched, forcing himself down over the swelling. He leans against the other man's chest, letting his head rest against the wall, and just feels.

* * *

Afterwards, he takes the officer outside and shoots him in the head. It's a necessary precaution; he can already feel part of him bonding to the man, wanting to know more about him. And although he knows that bonding after being bred is natural, the emotions still feel alien and intrusive. He knows that he lacks empathy; in his time in NSDAP he has seen things visited on human beings that all the devils in hell could not have thought up, and he has not thought them wrong or right or at all disturbing. He's shot more than one loyal German officer merely for bringing him bad news. To believe that he genuinely cared for the dead officer would require a level of self-delusion he is not capable of.

He is the Red Skull. He is more than an Alpha and more than an Omega. So he straightens his uniform cap and walks away from the corpse of the man he had briefly bonded with.

He has a world to conquer, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope Steve gets out of there before Schmidt remembers he left him lying there back in scene one.


End file.
